PS 1779 




LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 



@^ap. E^iojujrig^i Ifo. 

Shelf j^±Wjr 

\m^c 

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



hen Hearts 
areTrumps 

By 
Tom Hall 




JMDCCCXCIft 

Stone £ Kimball 
Cambridge Chicago 



apr 9 \m r 



Kiw 



\ 










1894 
£>tone & Kimball 



/2-32?/Y 



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Co rap SSUfe 






The verses in this volume have teen selected 
from work that has appeared in various peri- 
odicals during the past five years. Especially 
to the editors of LIFE, TRUTH, TOWN TOPICS, 
Vogue, and Munsey's Magazine / have to 
offer my thanks for their permission to repub- 
lish the majority of them. 

T. H. 





The Perfect Face, i. 

The Moonlight Sonata, 2. 

The Kiss, 3, 

The Bride, 4. 

A Problem, 5. 

To Phyllis Reading a Letter, 6. 

A Rose from her Hair, 7. 

When I told her my Love, 8. 

My Lady, you Blushed, 9. 

The American Slave, 10. 

Sell Her, — That's Right, 12. 

Time and Place, 13. 

Blood on the Rose, 15. 

In Old Madrid, 16. 

The Duel, 17. 

The Shroud, 18. 

Love's Return, 19. 

One Wish, 20. 

For Me, 21. 

To a Water-color, 22. 






&=J^^^=-^^\N 




The Serenade, 23. 

To the Rose in her Hair, 25. 

Her Reverie, 25. 

To Beauty, 27. 

Dreaming of You, 28. 

Please Return, 29. 

Almost Dying of Ennui, 30. 

Jacks from Jack, 31. 

Hyacinths, 32. 

In the Waltz, 33. 

She is Mine, 35. 

Old Times, 2>7- 

Of my Love, 38. 

The Farewell, 39. 

The Last Dance, 41. 

Why he asked for a Vacation, 44. 

The Editor's Valentine, 46. 

Acting, 49. 

An Apache Love-Song, 51. 

The Old-Fashioned Girl, 53. 

A Retrospect, 55. 

Hard Hit, 56. 

Rejected, 58. 





K 




Her Yachting Cap, 

Theft, 65. 

Before her Mirror, 66. 

At Old Point Comfort, 68. 

A Drop Too Much, 70. 

Ingratitude, 71. 

A Few Resolutions, 72. 

A Dilemma, 73. 

A Choice not Necessary, 74. 

That Boston Girl, 75. 

The Hero, 76. 

The Sweet Summer Girl, 77. 

Her Fan, 79. 

Certainty, 80. 

Caught, 81. 

An Important Distinction, 82. 

Two Kinds, S3. 

What it Is, 84. 

In her Pew, 85. 

The Suspicious Lover to the Star, 86. 

A Slight Surprise, 87. 

Past vs. Present, 88. 

The Usual Way, 89. 







A Difference in Style, 90. 

Afraid, 91. 

Ye Retort Exasperating, 92. 

A Rhyming Reverie, 93. 

A Sure Winner, 94. 

Tantalization, 95. 

His Usual Fate, 96. 

On Two Letters from Her, 97. 

A Serenade — en Deux Langues, 98. 

When a Girl says " No," 99. 

Uncertainty, ioi. 

Her Peculiarities, 102. 

Tying the Strings of her Shoe, 104. 

When You are Rejected, 105. 

A Bachelor's Views, 106. 

My Cigarette, 108. 

Discovered, 109. 

The Ice in the Punch, hi. 

The Tale of a Broken Heart, 113. 

Where did you get it? 115. 

No, 116. 

A Midsummer Night's Tempest, 118. 




Xll 






\sij 



^^, 



]^^^=^^B 



The Abused Gallant, 123. 
After the Ball, 125. 
Vanity Fair, 126. 
For the Long Voyage, 128. 





, , 




Rings 

©uecns 

* 

38otoerB 




'T^HE Graces, on a summer day, 

Grew serious for a moment ; yea, 
They thought in rivalry to trace 
The outline of a perfect face. 



Each used a rosebud for a brush, 

And, while it glowed with sunset's blush, /& 

Each painted on the evening sky, 

And each a star used for the eye. 



They finished. Each a curtaining cloud 
Drew back, and each exclaimed aloud : 
"Behold, we three have drawn the same, 
From the same model ! " Ah, her name ? 



I know. I saw the pictures grow. 
>'/}%> I sa w them falter, fade, and go. 
\/~*& I know the model. Oft she lures 

My heart. The face, my sweet, was yours. 








C&e ^Hooniisl)t Sonata* 

'HPHE notes still float upon the air, 

Just as they did that night. 
I see the old piano there, — 
Oh, that again I might! 



Her young voice haunts my eager ear ; 

Her hair in the candle-light 
Still seems an aureole, — a tear 

Is my spectroscope to-night. 

I hear her trembling tell me "No," 

And I know that she answered right; 

But I throw a kiss to the stars, and though 
She be wed she will dream to-night. 




W$t l&tas. 



/^~\VER the green fields, over the snow, 

^S Something I send thee, something I throw. £^ 

No one can guess it ; no one can know. 

Light as a feather, quick as the eye; 
Thin as a sunbeam, deep as the sky; 
Worthless, but something a queen could not buy. 

Ah, you have caught it, love ! How do I know ? £ 

Sweet, there are secrets lost ages ago. 

Lovers learn all of them. Smile not, — 'tis so. 





T1EFORE her mirror, robed in spotless 

white, 

She stands and, wondering, looks at her 

own face, 
Amazed at its new loveliness and grace. 
Smiling and blushing at the pretty sight, 
So fraught is she with innocent delight, 
She feels the tender thrill of his embrace 
Crushing her lilies into flowery lace ; 
Then sighs and starts, even as though from' 
fright. 



Then fleets before her eyes the happy past ; 
She turns from it with petulant disdain, 
And tries to read the future, — but in vain. 

Blank are its pages from the first to last. 

She hears faint music, smiles, and leaves the 
room 

Just as one rosebud more bursts into bloom. 





o> 




a Problem. 

GIVE you a problem for your midnight toil, — 
One you can study till your hair is white 
And never solve and never guess aright, 
Although you burn to dregs your midnight oil ? 
O Sage, I give one that will make you moil. 
Just take one weakling little woman's heart. 
Prepare your patience, furbish up your art. 
How now ? Did I not see you then recoil ? 



CM 



Tell me how many times it has known pain; 

Tell me what thing will make it feel delight; 
Tell me when it is modest, when 'tis vain; 

Tell me when it is wrong and when 't is right : jS 
But tell me this, all other things above, — 
Can it feel, Sage, the thing that man calls " Love " ? 





Co Pfjplitfl; EeaUinff a Letter* 

A SMILE is curving o'er her creamy cheel 
Her bosom swells with all a lover's joy, 
When love receives a message that the coy 
Young love-god made a strong and true 
heart speak 
<j From far-off lands ; and like a mountain-peak 
That loses in one avalanche its cloy 
Of ice and snow, so doth her breast employ 
Its hidden store of blushes ; and they wreak 
Destruction, as they crush my aching heart, — 
Destruction, wild, relentless, and as sure 
s the poor Alpine hamlet's ; and no art 
Can hide my agony, no herb can cure 
My wound. Her very blush says, " We must 



:ir-' 




f'ff Why was it always my fate to endure? <?0^ 

•4 






a Eose from |)er J>ait% 

QHE gave me a rose from her hair, 

And she hid her young heart within it. 
I could hardly speak from despair, 
Till she gave that rose from her hair, 
And leaned out over the stair 

With a blush as she stooped to pin it. 
She gave me a rose from her hair, 
And she hid her young heart within it. 






SSt&en 3f tola Jer mp ILatoe* 

TT7HEN I told her my love, 

She was maidenly shy, 
And she bit at her glove. 

I gave Cupid a shove ; 

Yes, I begged him to try, 
When I told her my love. 

What was she thinking of 

As she uttered that sigh 

And she bit at her glove? 

And pray what does it prove 

That she stopped there to sigh, 
When I told her my love 
And she bit at her glove ? 




A /FY lady, you blushed. 

Was my love a surprise ? 
How quickly they hushed! 



A curl of yours brushed 
All else from my eyes. 
My lady, you blushed. 





Cl)e American H>latoe* 

i 

POME, muster your pleasantest smile, m 
dear, 

And put on your prettiest gown. 
Forget about Jack for a while, my dear, 

His lordship has just come to town. 




He 's come here to get him a wife, my dear, 
And you have been put up for sale 

With a marvellous income for life, my dear, &IL 
To balance your side of the scale 

X 

;HHis lordship is feeble and old, my dear, — £X^ 
What odds ? All the sooner he '11 die. 
And he has a sore need of your gold, my dea, 
Yfif/* See the good you can do i 



• gold, my dea#g> Jf)\ 
ifyou'Utry.Wl 




^)'I 



t 



lAnd then a real lady you '11 be, my dear, 

Not only by nature but name; 
Mamma '11 be so proud, — you can see, my r-^ 
dear, 

No one thinks it, as you do, a shame. \v 

So bend your proud head. Are you faint, 
my dear ? 
Keep the tears back, be buoyant and 
brave. 




Keep that pose ! Now a portrait we '11 paint, 
my dear, 
To be called " The American Slave." 



0lF^muzt^i 




Sell $>er, — C&at's Etffljt* 

QELL her, — that 's right ! She is young, \|^ 

she is fair ; 
There 's the light of the sun in the coils of 

her hair, 
And her soul is as white as the first flakes of 

snow 
That are falling to-night. 'T is a bargain, a 

"go." 
Sell her, — that's right! 

Sell her, — that 's right ! For a bag full of 

gold. 
Put her down in your ledger, and label her 

" Sold." 

only a beauty with somebody's name, wjjj 
the Church for a pittance will wash JjjU 

I 



She's 
And 



Sell 



out the shame. 

her, — that 's right ! 





Cime anU pace* 

TT ASTEN on! The mad moonlight is 
beaming 




On the hatred and love 'twixt us two ; 
^y And it beams on the maid who is dreaming 
And the grave made for me or for you. 

Time and place, — love and life in the 
balance, 

Fear and hope in the glance of your eye 
Draw your blade ! Forget not we are gallants j( 

Who can laugh at our fate as we die. /[ 

On your guard ! There '11 be blood on the 
metal 
Ere she wakes from her innocent dreams ; 
There 's a long list of kisses to settle, 
And some love sighs and death sighs, 
seems. 

■J 







S it dew on the rose ? 

Tis the same that I gave him 
Last night when I chose 
To warn him and save him; 

That he pinned on his breast 
With a smile at his danger, 

And a smile, not in jest, 
That was sweeter and stranger. 




Here are footprints of foes ! 

Oh, my heart ! — I can feel 
It is blood on the rose 

And a sliver of steel. 



15 




%n ©la iHaKrto* 

T STROLLED the streets in quest of any 
love, 
In old Madrid long centuries ago; 
I caught the perfume of a scented glove, 
'jjj I saw a sweet face in a portico. 

She laughed — then paled. She leaned out; 
whispered, u Fly ! " 

And then I felt the sting of steel, the hiss 
Of curses in my ear, and knew that I 

Had forfeited my life — and lost a kiss. 




16 




W§t £)tteU 



nPEN paces — one, two, three, and fire ! 
Two gallants have their heart's desire. 




One of them dies, the other laughs ; 
The seconds smile, the doctor chaffs. 

A woman, smiling, dreams she 's wed 
To — hush, to the very one that's dead, 




^pHE snow came softly, silently, down 

Into the streets of the dark old town; 
And lo ! by the wind it was swept and piled, 
On the sleeping form of a beggar-child. 

%$ It kissed her cheek, and it filled her hair 
With crystals that looked like diamonds 

there ; 
And she dreamed that she was a fair young 

bride %p 

In a pure white dress by her husband's side. /// 

It 

\. blush crept over her pale young face, 
f And her thin lips smiled with a girlish grace ; 
ig^|/jBut the old storm-king made his boast alou<K\J^^ 

('I/ That his work that night was weaving .^3s£ 
J/ 1 Hit shroud. (?3?m^ 



<\ C: 



Si 



q^mm 



o g?r 




^f^is^ 2 ^ 



T OVE has come back — ah me, the joy ! - 

Greater than when Love began 
To wound my heart. The jocund boy ! 
Love has come back a gray-haired man. 

(ffl? His eyes are red with tears of woe, 

His cheeks are pale, and his heart is sore 
But Love has come back at last, and, oh ! 
Love will be faithful evermore. 





%^^^m^s^ 



M 



©ne Wii&h 



Y thoughts are gliding down the stream, 





^>y A '^ Ah, faster than the river flows; 
And idly in my heart I dream 
Of islands where the lotus grows. 

I fear not rapids, waterfall, 

Or whirlpool leading down to death, 
If love but my tired heart enthrall, 

And I may sip a woman's breath. 

I care not what may be my fate. 

Roll on, mad river, to the 
Drown all ambition, pride, and 

But leave one woman's love 




Co a ®3Eatet*oIot\ 

SWEET Phyllis, maid of yesterday, 
Come down from out that frame, 
And tell me why you looked so gay — 
Likewise your other name. 

Had bold Sir Plume confessed his love 
And asked you if you 'd wed ? 

And had he called you " Lovey-dove " ? 
And how long are you dead? 

Where did you get that wondrous gown, 
Those patches, and that hair ? 

And how were things in London town 
The last time you were there ? 



And did you die a maid or wife, 

Your husband lord or knave ? 
And how did you like this jolly 
how do you like the grave 




life 



Q^r 




W$t l&etena&e* 

NDER my casement, as I pray, 
My lover sings my cares away 
C^Ssr With many a half-forgotten lay. 



u 




He leans against the linden-tree, 
And sings old songs of Arcady 
That he knows well are loved by me. 

Half through the night the sweet strains float 
Like wind-blown rose-leaves, note by note 
Over the great wall and the moat, 

Up to my window, till they teem 
Into my soul, and almost seem 
To be there even when I dream. 

And his heart trembling beats with bliss 
If I but throw him one small kiss 
Just as I now throw this, and this. 





Co t&e Kose in I)et $>ait\ 

T)OOR little rose, I pity you — 

Sweet as Oporto's wind when fruity — 
Tortured an evil hour or two, 
)& Just to adorn a wilful beauty. 




I know her well, too well, alas ! 

(Just watch the fairy as she dances.) 
J«k ^he wears mv heart — but let that pass; 

It 's dead : she killed it with her glances. 

^raCYour fate, poor rose, is such as mine, — 
yVf To be despised when you are faded ; 
/?//£ Yet she *s an angel — too divine \H^A 



you or me upbraided. 



s.J 





24 




A LADY combed her silken hair. 

None but a looking-glass would dare 
To gaze on such a scene. 
The blushes thronged her dimpled cheek ; 
They coursed upon her shoulders, eke, 
And the white neck between. 

And she was thinking then, I trow, 
Of one who, in a whispered vow 

Beneath the budding elm, 
Had told her they would sail their barque 
On lakes where pale stars pierced the dark, 




25 



Qsjr 





Anon, a faint smile pursed her lips 
And shook her dainty finger-tips, 

As breezes shake the boughs; 
And then a quick, impetuous frown 
Came gathering from her ringlets down, 

And perched upon her brows. 

Ah, she was thinking then, I ween, 
Of me, poor clumsy dunce, who e'en 

Had torn her silken dress. 
I waltzed too near her at the ball; 
Her beauty dazed me — that was all; 

I felt a dizziness. 








Co 33eautp. 



"f\H, Mi: 



Mistress Beauty," said my sigh, 
'd laugh to scorn all other blisses, 
If you and I might live and die 
Together on such fare as kisses. 



" Your kirtle would not be of silk, 
The band around it but torn leather. 

I think our wine would be plain milk; 
I think we'd oft see stormy weather. 



" But, oh, there are some things in life 
Worth more to men than fame or money ; 
Vfi. And one of them 's a sweet young wife, 
So pure, so honest, and so bonnie." 



% 




27 



Q^r 





£)reamina; of pott* 

^0 TV/T^" sou * ^ ee * s re ^ res ^ e d> like a rose kissed 
> ^ by dew, 

When waking I know I Ve been dreaming 
of you. 

They thought I was mad. Ah, my sweet, 

if they knew //■■ 

That my malady simply was dreaming ofyT 
you ! /]{ 

I 've one wish. 'T is to sleep all the long 
ages through 

By your side, you my bride, and I dream- 
ing of you. 




2S 



^m^^r^^ 



Please Uetttnu 

"VTOW, all you pretty maids in town, 

Take heed of my sad plight. 
I 've lost a kiss ; I '11 give a crown 
To get it back to-night. 




I threw it, poet-like, I own, 

Up to a silvery star; 
I must confess I might have known 

I could not throw so far. 

But, oh, surprise ! It circled round, 
And sank as though 'twere laden 

With love — when almost to the ground 
'Twas caught by some young maiden. 

And that young maid I wish to find. 

I 've lost a kiss, alack ! 
It is not hers. She '11 not be kind 

Unless she give it back. 






29 



<B^g^g&e?^ a > 






almost Dpina: of (Bnnttu 

TIT HAT are the charms of the sea? 

Oh for an hour of the city! 
What are the dull waves to me? 
Can they say anything witty? 

What do they care for my lips ? 

Why did I come? It's a pity! 
Nothing but water and ships, 

And Jack far away in the city. 

Oh for one ride in the park, 

With Jack humming bars from a ditty; 
Kissing me (when it grows dark). 

Fy! Oh — heigho, for the city! 



Qsf 



m 




a 




^F 



Sfacfes from Jaclu 

"J^RESH, fragrant, tempting, balmy, red 
What fool would send them back ? 
Why do I wish that I were dead, 
With all these jacks from Jack ? 



Why do I bite my lips and frown, 
Tear buttons off my sacque, 

When, just returning to the town, 
I get these jacks from Jack? 



Alas, for pleasure's giddy whirl, 

For summer lost, alack ! 
He 's off to see some other girl ; 

That 's why mere jacks from Jack. 





^^^^5^% 



7/1 



Jjpacint&a* 

TJYACINTHS, tenderly sweet, 

Is it life that you ask in your prayer ? 
Ah, I would die at her feet, 
If I could be one of you there. 

There on her billowy breast, 
So near to her innocent heart, 

That its beating would lull me to rest, 
And to dream I should never depart. 

Sighing are you for the stars ? 

Look in the depths of her eyes. 
Is there a gem of the Czar's 

So much like those gems of the skies? 



Is it the dew that you miss ? 

Hyacinths, hyacinths, wait. 
Soon she will give you a kiss. 

Oh, how I envy your fate ! 



I 





3fn t&e Walt?. 

AN ECHO FROM A SEASIDE HOP. 

f* IGHT as the waves foaming white on the 
■^ bar, 

We dance to the mandolin, harp, and guitar ; 
One, two, three, waltzing we glide round the 

room, — 
Would you were bride, and ah, would I were 

groom ! 




On all the seashore none fairer than you ; 
What but adore you could any one do ? 
Cheeks like the pink of an evening sky, 
Eyes that might bid a man laughingly die. 






& 



<W^f 






K 



ay 






s -§ 



£*;. 




Ears like the shells from the Indian sea, 
Teeth like white buds on a young apple-tree^ 
Throat like a lily bent heavy with dew, 
Arms just as white and as lily-like too. 



Lips that would tempt — ah ! you '11 pardon 

me now, 
Being so near them suggests, you '11 allow, 
That the happiest thing e'er a mortal could «^p' 






^^If 5 ^-^^ 



'T^HERE 's a sparkle in her eye 

That no millionnaire can buy. 
If they think so, let them try — 
She 's divine. 



There 's a blush upon her cheek 
Like the peach-tree's blossom, eke, 
Like red willows by the creek, 
Or like wine. 

She has roses in her hair. 
It was I who put them there. 
Really, did I ever dare — 
Is she mine? 







m 

> fig* 



^^^^0^^^ 



r 




Or is it all a dream, — 
Idle poet's empty theme 
Put in words that make it seem 
Superfine ? 



No; for see upon her hand 
There's a little golden band, — 
Filigree work, understand, 
Like a vine; 



And a perfect solitaire 
Fits upon it. The affair 
Cost two hundred. I don't care! 
She is mine. 




36 



<L>r> 



y 



cs 



M- H 



©ft QLixats. 



, good old times of belles and beaux, 
Of powdered wigs and wondrous hose, 
Of stately airs and careful grace, 
Look you at our degenerate race. 



No more the gallant spends his time 
In writing of his love in rhyme; 
No more he lives unconscious of 
All earthly things save war and love. 

We modern men have toils and cares 
To streak our pates with whitened hairs, 
And have to crowd our love and all 
Into one short and weekly call. 



37 




^^f^^M 



@f mp lobe* 

TYTAS ever a moon 

In joyous June 

As royal, radiant, rare as she, 

With her smiling lips, 

As she lightly trips 
Down through the autumn woods to me ? 

Never a queen 

On her throne, I ween, 
Had such a loyal slave as I. 

Ready to bear 

All her cares, I swear, 
Just for a fleeting kiss on the sly. 

Oh for the day 

We gallop away 
To the curate's cottage, Gretna Green; 

Side by side, 

Groom and bride, 
Happy twenty and sweet sixteen ! 






m%f 



W$z JFaretoelL 

"\TOT going abroad? What, to-morrow, 
And to stay, goodness knows for how 
long? 
^y Really, Jack, 't would appear that dry sorrow * 
Had done even you, sir, a wrong. 

It has ? Ha, ha, ha ! What a joke, sir ! 
Is it Mabel or Jenny or Nell ? 
«r^V I 'm sure you are wrong, — hold my cloak,, 
sir, — 
Am I not an old friend ? Come now, tell. 



The prince of our set broken-hearted ! 

What a joke ! Who rejected you? Speak ! 
Did you look like that, Jack, when you parted ? 

Was that pallor of death on your cheek ? 





K&L 




You interest me. Tell me about it ; 

And let your old chum, sir, console. 
Hard hit in the heart. I don't doubt it ; 

You were made for that sort of a role. 



Did you bend on your knee, like an actor, 
Hardly knowing just where to begin ? 

Was dear mamma's consent the main factor ? 
What a fool the poor girl must have been ! 



Who was she ? What ! — I ? — You were 
jealous ? 

O, Jack, who 'd have thought such a thing ? 
You 've been certainly not over-zealous. 

But kiss me — and where is the ring ? 





C&e Last Dance* 

AN INCIDENT IN A WINDOW SEAT. 

He : Well, how many conquests ? I fancy 
a score 
By the flush on your cheeks and your' 
shoulders. 
> She: A bore! 

He: Oh, nonsense; a debutante just out of 
school 
Who can rute with a smile what a 

king could not rule, 
From young Harry, her prince, to \M 
myself, her poor fool ! ***Vy* 

Come, tell me, did Harry propose ? 







What 
You would think me to tell you 

then of what use 
Could it be ? 



a goose JZJg 
ell you, ana — /fO 




^M 




TCP 



He: Well, it might give me hope, where 

r before 

There was none, — quite a boon from 

the lips you adore 
When you 're hungry for love. 
She (coquetting) : Or who knows but it 

might — 
He : Yes, it might blot from life every sem- 
blance of light 
As the clouds blot the moon on a 

storm-troubled night. 
But tell me. 
She : He did. 

He : And your answer was ? ^^Ct 

She: No. 

He: You mean it, or are you coquetting 
yet? 







•sat? 



A 



She: 

I just told him I cared for another — 

he smiled. 
It was merely to him so much pleasure 

beguiled 
From a girl. Charge it up profit? — 

loss ? — tell me which ? 
He thinks I am pretty, they say, but, 

not rich. 
He would love me, perhaps, for a sea- 
son or two, 
So I told him that I loved another. 

And who ? 
She (archly) : Really, must I te\\ you ? 
He : No — your finger — yes, this ! 

A solitaire — done ! and now quickly ! 
She (feigning reluctance) : One ! 

He (ecstatically) : Kiss. 






®5ttj)p %t aafceU for a ©acatiom 



D 



EAR Jack 






It 's delightfully gay here, — 
Old Paris seemed never so fine, — 
And mamma says we 're going to stay here, 

And papa — well, papa sips his wine 
And says nothing. You know him of old, 
dear. 
He 's only too happy to rest, — 
After making three millions in gold, dear. 

He 's played out, it must be confessed, — 
And I — I 'm to wed an old Baron 

Three weeks from to-day, in great style 
He 's as homely and gaunt as old Charon, 
■* And they say that his past has been vile) ; £J\C$ 
£VAnd I 've promised to cut you hereafter, — 
Small chance, though, we ever shall meet,— 
vjfifi. So let 's turn our old love into laughter, 

And face the thing through. Shall we*~ 
sweet ? rj&fr^ 





44 




C&e ©iritot'fii Salentine. 

'pHE editor sat in his old arm-chair 

(Half his work undone he was well 
aware), 
While the nickering light in the dingy 

room 
Made the usual newspaper office gloom. 

Before him news from the North and South, 

A long account of a foreign drouth, 

A lot of changes in local ads., 

The report of a fight between drunken cads, 

And odds and ends and smoke and talk, — 
A reporter drawing cartoons in chalk 
On the dirty wall, while others laughed, 
y]Y^ And one wretch whistled, and all 





But the editor leaned far back in his chair ; 
He ran his hands through his iron-gray hair, 
And stole ten minutes from work to write 
A valentine to his wife that night. 



He thought of metre, he thought of rhyme. 
'T was a race between weary brains and 

time. 
He tried to write as he used to when 
His heart was as young as his untried pen. 





He thought of the days when they wei 

young, 
And all but love to the winds was flungf^v-/. 
He thought of the way she used to wear 
Her wayward tresses of golden hair. 




He thought of the way she used to blush. 
He thought of the way he used to gush. 
And a smile and a tear went creeping down 
The face that so long had known a frown. 

And this is what the editor wrote: 
No poem — merely a little note, 
pimple and manly, but tender, too; S |IL 




48 




V 

4 



A H, my arms hold you fast! How can 

they be so bold 
When my hands offer nothing of silver or 
gold? 

an it be that I see a new light in your 
eye? 
Can it be that I heard then a womanly sigh ? 

Ah, I feel such delight, and such joy, such 

surprise, 
That I hardly dare lift my own sight to 

your eyes. 

k 




49 




v - Ah, my arms hold you fast, and my lips 
touch your cheek, 
And I'm crying, "Love, answer me; speaj^^, 
to me — speak ! " 

And the answer you give to my longing 

distress 
Is that word, with a blush and a kiss, that 

word " Yes." 

Ah, my arms hold you fast, and I burn with 

a fire A 

V& That nothing but long-waiting love can - 
inspire. 

^?et I know you mean nothing — mean noth- *-*V^3 
fp 7 ' ing, because )]] 

>%It's mere acting- Ah me, I can hear th^^^4 





50 




&n &pat&e lotoe-Jbona;* 1 



A 



AT ANA she was here. 
A-atana I was dear. 
She will never come again. 
Chill my heart, O wind and rain. 
A-atana she was here. 

Hark, the wind asks " Hi-you ? " 

And I answer "A-coo, 
Ustey with your bitter cold; 
U-ga-sha, my love of old." 

Still the wind asks " Hi-you ? " 

1 A-atana, yesterday. Hi-you, where. A-coo, here. 
U's-tey, come, or bring. U'-ga-sha, go, or take. 
A-oo, yes. I have no authority for the spelling of these 
words. I rendered them phonetically from the pronun- 
ciation of a young Apache whom I hired to teach me 
the language. Many Apache words have no percepti- 
ble accent. A, here, has the sound of a in father. 



Clf: 







U==2$S£) °^ 



W 




Cfje ©IMaa&ionrti (Bixl 






HP HERE 's an old-fashioned girl in an old«j| 

fashioned street, 
Dressed in old-fashioned clothes from her 



xy£? head to her feet; 

And she spends all her time in the old 

fashioned way 
Of caring for poor people's children all day. A 

She never has been to cotillon or ball, 




. .gnd she knows not the styles of the Spring 




or the Fall ; 
Two hundred a year will suffice for her 
needs, 



H^> 



fill And an old-fashioned Bible is all that shf^Zl^ 




53 




; And she has an old-fashioned heart that is 
true 

To a fellow who died in an old coat of blue, <£/■ 

With its buttons all brass, — who is waiting 
above 

For the woman who loved him with old- 
fashioned love. 





fa 







'££> 



T WAS poor as a beggar, — she knew it, 
$Tw» But proud as a king through it all; 
Though it cost me two dollars to do it, 
I took little Meg to the ball. 



Mere calico served her for satin ; 

My broadcloth was made of blue jeans. 
Without crest or a motto in Latin, 

Meg's style was as grand as a queen's. 



And we were in dreamland all through it, 
And I do not regret it at all; 

Though it cost me two dollars to do it, 
I took little Meg to the ball. 





jffl^T GUESS that I'm done for, old chappie! 
Done, whether she loves me or not, — 
But don't look so deuced unhappy, — 
Y' know it was I fired the shot. 

Thanks, awfully. Give me the whiskey, — 
There 's a horrible pain in my head ; 

It 's queer that my nerves should be frisky 0, 
When my heart is as heavy as lead. 



I 'm worthless ; I own it ! She told me, 
That night at the Country Club ball, — 

Don't try, dear old fellow, to hold me, — 
Ah, Nellie ! — it 's over ! — don't call ! 

She told me my life had been wasted, 
That my money had ruined my mind, 
not left a pleasure untasted, — 
been a disgrace to mankind! 







And now she 's to marry another, — 
A poor man, but honest and strong, 

Who had never a passion to smother, 
And never a chance to do wrong. 

He loves her. They '11 all think it funny 
I don't curse him and kill him, old fel ; 

But she loves him. I 've left him my 
money, — 

For I love her — God bless her! Fare- 
well! 









I1S^I9 




Bejettefc* 

A W, yes, bah Jove. I thought you 'd an- 
""* swer " No." 
But still a fellah 's got to awsk, you see. 
2$ And then there was the chance you might 
outgrow 
That way you had of making fun of me. 

| 

y^ Three years in Europe sometimes make a 
change 

•*^ In girls like you, who Ve always been 
adored; 
A> And when you laughed, I thought it raw-_ 
Jh ther strange. (^ 

Aw, I beg pawdon; p'haps vou feel, aw — 



I beg pawdon; p'haps you feel, aw — 
bored. 





You don't? You think it fun — a fellah's 

pains 
At words like yours ? You don't know how rfL 

they smart. 
I know you think I have n't any brains ; 
But still, Miss Nellie, I Ve a — I 've a £ 

heart. 





o 



|)er parotitis Cap* 

jH, the little yachting cap 
That is lying in her lap 
Has a sort of fascination for poor me. 
It is made of something white, 
And she wears it day and night, 
Through the weeks she spends each summer 
by the sea. 

She can make of it a fan, 

And, when necessary, can 
Hide her face behind it, if she chance to 
blush. 

It has carried caramels, 

Chocolate drops, and pretty shells, 
And I've even seen her use it as a brush. 





But still it has one fault 

In my eyes. I'd better halt, 
Had I not, and ponder well what I shal 
say ? 

She is darting warning glances. 

Well, under certain circumstances, 
The visor 's always getting in my way. 




64 



€&eft 



T 



HE moonlight steals around the pine ; 
Star-eyes steal radiance from thine. 



Low music steals upon the ear; 

Can there be theft when thou art near? 

I steel my heart for fear of this, — 
I steel my heart and steal a kiss. 




If it were sweet as kiss of thine! 



before Jet JUirror* 




PAUSE before her mirror and reflect 

(That 's what the mirror does, I take 
it, too); 
^§w R e fl ect now little it has known neglect, 

And think, " O mirror, would that I 
were you." 

She has no secrets that you do not know, 

You and yon crescent box of poudre de 

rose. 

And even these long curling-irons can show 
Much evidence of use, yet naught disclose. 

Here, when she smiles, you know it is her 
teeth 
She *s putting to the test ere she depart 
For the gay revel on the lawn beneath, 
Or moonlight ramble that may break a j 
heart. 



u; 





.Here she may blush, until she, red as wine, 

Knows that her triumphs have not ceased 

to be. 

Here, when she frowns, and looks still 

more divine, 

You know, wise mirror, that she thinks 

of me. 








at ©IK Point Comfort* 

YOU don't think of dresses, or ducats, or 
dukes ; 
You don't care for chaperone's rigid rebukes ; 
It 's just simply grand, 
To lie there on the sand, 

Down at the beach, — 
If a man 's within reach. 



Some like the moonlight and some like the d-f 

sun, 
Some flirt in earnest and some flirt in fun ; 
It 's worth all the rash, 
Reckless spending of cash, 
All the dresses you spoil, 
All the tempers you roil, 

Down at the beach, — 
If a man's within reach. 






91 Drop C00 JHttcji* 



r PRAISED her hair, I praised her lips, 
She looked up with surprise; 
I bowed to kiss her finger-tips, 
And then she dropped her eyes. 

I said love ruled the world; that I 
Adored her ; called her " Nan." 

She merely looked a little shy, 
And then she dropped her fan. 

I took the hint, and at her feet 

I knelt — yes, quite absurd; 
But oh, my fond heart wildly beat 

To hear her drop a word. 



I 



I told her all : my talents few, 

My direful lack of pelf. 
(We all have erred.) She said "Adieu,' 

And then dropped me myself. 





I#^p^ 



3fasrattttttre* 





[" AST night young Cupid lost his way, 

And came to me to find it. 
He'd been a truant all the day, 
But didn't seem to mind it. 

I put him in a hansom then 
For home, and feed the cabby; 

But my reward was what most men 
Would call extremely shabby. 

He got his bow and arrows out, 
And pierced my heart, nor tarried, 

But drove away ere I could shout, 

" Great Heavens, Cupe, I 'm married ! ' 



J 



71 




^M^W 



& JFeto Kesoltttt0nfiu 

( With Reservations.) 

CJE shall never know that I love him 
A-L Until he asks if I do. 
And I'll feel very much above him 
When he stoops to tie my shoe. 

And I shall never kiss him — 

Until he kisses me. 
And I shall never miss him — 

Till he sails over the sea. 

And I shall never wed him, 
Nor call myself his bride — 

Till Cupid and I have led him 
Right up to the minister's side. 




72 




& ^Dilemma* 

A LETTER for me, 

From the girl that I love! 
Just penned by her hand 
And caressed by her glove. 
A jewel — a gem — ah ! 
A letter from Emma. 



A letter for me, 

Oh, what joy, what surprise! 
Just kissed by her lips — 
At least, blest by her eyes. 
'Tis opened — ahem, ah! 
A letter from Emma. 



A letter for me, 

From my sweet little bird. 
Eight pages, by Jove! 
And I can't read a word. 
A precious dilemma, 
This letter from Emma ! 





73 




^Nisjsa 




E looked so handsome, proud, and 
brave, 
As he stood there, straight and tall, 
With his steadfast eyes, so gray, so grave, 
The beau of the Hunt Club ball. 



Ah me, full many a white breast sighed 

For the favor of his hand, — 
For the love of a heart so true, so tried, 

For life, you understand. 

He looked a hero ; he was more, 

A martyr, too, perchance ; 
For he went to the oldest girl on the floor, 

And led her out to dance. 








Cj)e §2>)i&ztt Summer (3ixh 

QHE has hair that is fluffy, straight,! 

banged, or half curled 
Has a parasol, oft by her deft fingers 
twirled. 
jig She has eyes either brown or black, gray 
or true blue; 
Has a neat fitting glove and a still neater 
shoe. A 

VR 

She has cheeks that make bitter the envi- ^(f 
ous rose; (III 

^f/TShe has trunks upon trunks of the costliest ^ 

J clothes ; 

X She has jewels that shine as the stars cta^ 

f at night; IS? 

J/.ii And she dances as Ariel dances — or migfc^SxV 



77 



sS#® 



She knows nothing much, but she 's great 

on the smile; 
Her profession is love, and she flirts all 

the while ; 
She's accustomed to sitting on rocks in 

the glen; 
She is also accustomed to sitting on men. 






A DAINTY thing of silk and lace, 

Of feathers, and of paint, 
Held often to her laughing face 
When I assume the saint. 



Too dainty far to mix with these 
Old pipes, cigars, and books 

Of bachelordom, — rare life of ease, — 
Rare friends, rare wines, rare cooks. 

'Twill smell of stale tobacco smoke 

Ere many days I fear, 
And hear full many a rattling joke, 

And feel, perhaps, a tear. 

Why is it here ? Alas for me ! 

I broke it at a ball. 
" Apologize — repair it." See ? 

Five dollars gone, — that 's all. 




^fw§ 



79 




Q^r 





V 




/^\H, her eyes, her beautiful eyes ! 
^^^ How they melt when she sobs o 
she sighs ! 
How they droop 

When she blushes ! 
How they flash 

When she crushes 
The love she 's compelled to disguise ! 

Oh, her i's, her beautiful i's ! 
v Who can tell them apart though he tries 



Sr** From her m's 




Or her e's, 
N's, or u's 

As you please 
In her letters ? I offer a prize. 




83 



<L,r- 



H 




a 




QHE looked up from her pew 

(Why she did, Heaven knows); 
But I smiled; wouldn't you? 
'Twas the right thing to do; 
And, pshaw, nobody knew. 

Then I tried hard to pose, 

But a look of hers froze 
All my blood. And I woo 
Her in future, old chappie, when not in her 
pew. 





7/1 



^^^^f^K^ 



C6e g>ufiipict0ttfi; totoer to t&e Stan 

/^v SILVER star, 

^ That seeth far, 
Tell my poor heart what she is doing; 

And ease my pain, 

Who would again 
Be at her side, and still be wooing. 

Does she regret 

The token set 
By me upon her slender ringer ? 

Or in the dance 

Do her eyes glance 
At it sometimes, — and sometimes linger? 

Be, silver star, 
Particular, 
And do not be afraid of hurting. 
I know her well, 
And truth to tell, 
lady love is flirting. 




j^^F^ 



31 Sliff&t J&ttrprtee* 

/^OME, lovely Laura! strike the lyre, 

And I will sing a song to thee 
That will thy maiden heart inspire 
With love, and love alone for me. 

Why hesitate ? Come, strike the lyre ! 

Down where the chord is minor D. 
Of wooing thee I '11 never tire. 

Good gracious ! Why do you strike me ? 






38 




C&e SEattal SSRap* 

'T^HREE young maidens sat in a row, 
With three grim dragons behind 'em 



v 



* And each of these maidens had a young 
beau, 
And they all of 'em made 'em mind 'em. 




U\\ These three maidens are married now ; 

In three brown-stone fronts you '11 find 



I 



i 



But ever since the very first row 
L They can none of 'em make 'em mind^ 
%m 'em. ^A 




8 9 




& ^Difference in §>tple* 



OWEET Phyllis sat upon a stile, 
With love and me beside her, 
Her red lips in a pouting smile. 
A pout? Her eyes belied her. 

My thoughts were merry as the day, — 
And though the joke was shocking, — 

I shouted quick, and turned away: 
" A spider 's on your stocking ! " 

The fun, of course, I did not see, 

But heard an exclamation 
That sounded much like " Gracious me ! 

And guessed the consternation. 

Then Phyllis sat upon the style 
Of men who would deride her; 

But she no longer sits the while 
With love and me beside her. 



j> 






afraiDu 

FjOWN the broad stairs 
Stranger to cares, 
My love comes tripping and smiling and ^S 
free; 
The snows on her breast 
Are a blush unconfessed. 
wonder what fate has in waiting for me ? 




My heart seems to throb 

Like a broken-paced cob; 
I fear I 'm a coward in love, as they say, 

She 's commencing to laugh ; 

How the fellows mil chaff. 
By Jove, I 'm not going to ask her to-day. JJJ 




91 



a 



ge EUtort ©paaperatins* 

"OWEETE maide," ye lovesicke youthe 
^f ^ remarked, 

" Thou 'rt fickle as my star ! 
By far ye worste I ever sparked, 

You are ! You really are ! 

Albeit yt my brains are nil, 

I 'm gallante as can be ; 
I 'lie be to you whate'er you wille, 

If you 'lie be more to me." 




" Faire youthe," ye maide replied, " I do 

Not barter, as a rule, 
But I 'lie be sister untoe you, — 

Be you my Aprille foole." 



V-i 



*m*& Kim^^mj 




There came a rival old and bold, 

To make him rhyme with gold and sold. 

n3k 






3 [(<--"- 



93 




a &ttte Wiimtx. 



/^\H, treat me not with cold disdain, 
^"^ My pretty maids of fashion ; 
Look upon the hearts you 've slain, 
And listen to my passion. 

Though I am not so peerly proud 

As men of higher station, 
So handsome that the madding crowd 

Collects in admiration ; 

And have, perhaps, too great a store 

Of sandy hair and freckles, 
I 've mortgages and bonds galore, 

And muchly many shekels. 

You yet may journey league or mile 

To wed, as you're aware. 
Come, cease your longing for mere style, 

And take A. Millionnaire. 





94 




$>us SSsttai fate* 

A LL one season 

Lost to reason, 
Breathing sea air 
By the beach, where 

Young hearts mingle, 
Love was playful 
All the day full. 
We were single. 



Now with mournful 
Looks and scornful 
Turns he too us; 
He is through us, 

Worried, harried 
Love is sighing; 
Love is dying. 

We are married. 






0^Qm^f^^% 



©n Ctoo Letter* from |>er* 

T WROTE her a letter. It took her quite 
two 

To answer it after she'd read it. 
My letter contained what perhaps even you 

Have written, — at least, you have said it. 



My letter contained the old tale of a heart 
That longed to be linked to another ; 
told her to think on each separate 
part, 
And ask the advice of her mother. 




She apparently did, for the very next mail 
Brought me a message of woe. 
Aijvslt took her two letters ; they made me turn 
pale ; 
For they were the letters " N " " O ". 











& Serenade — tn TDzuj: Lanstte*»4^ 

QOUS le maple, mort de night, 

Avec le lune beams shining through, 
Ecoutez-moi, mon hapless plight. 
Je vous aime — qui lovez-vous ? 

Je plink les strings de mon guitar. 

II fait bien f roid ; J 'am nervous, too. 
Dites-moi, dites-moi ce que vous are ? 
•\^ J e vous aime ; qui lovez-vous ? 

e^^CjSfu es si belle, je veux vous wed. 



y Mon pere est riche — comme riche est \ft 



{..fa Bonne nuit, adieu; J 'ai cold in head. 
Je vous aime — qui lovez-vous. 



fimk 




^^9^0^^^^^ 






When a girl says " No," 
It 's so different, oh ! 
No kiss, ten sighs, 
Two tear-dimmed eyes. 
There 's a vision of things 
That poverty brings, — 
A winter complete 
On Uneasy Street, 
A temptation to rob, 
A twelve-dollar job, 
A boarding-house meal, 
And you pray a new deal; 
For it 's different quite when a girl says 
" No." 




§£ 



w^^^& 



SBocertamtp* 



JENNY has a laughing eye, 



Yet she is most wondrous shy. 

But why? 



Jenny says she hates the men ; 
Still she '11 marry. Artful Jen ! 

But when ? 



I Ve a rival who is rich ; 

With one of us sweet Jen will hitch. 

But which? 




m 

Mm, 

ptv Peculiarities* 

The Question of the Learned Man, 



TJOW doth the little blushing maid 

Employ each shining hour? 
Doth she, in sober thought arrayed, 
Learn knowledge that is power? 




Say, doth she mend her father's socks, 
And cook his evening meal ? 
^Nm^CS And doth she make her own sweet frocks 





io3 




i°5 




& ^Sacljelor's; mm*. 



A 



PIPE, a book, 
A cosy nook, 
A fire, — at least its embers ; 
A dog, a glass ; — 
'T is thus we pass 
Such hours as one remembers 




Who 'd wish to wed ? 
Poor Cupid 's dead 
These thousand years, I wager. 
The modern maid 
Is but a jade, 
Not worth the time to cage her. 

In silken gown 

To "take" the town 
Her first and last ambition. 

What good is she 

To you or me 
Who have but a " position " ? 



%m 



<j> 




io7 




AN EPISODE ON BEACON HILL. 

"X/'OU are frowning ; 
I don't wonder. 
Reading Browning; 
Hard as thunder ! 



Oh, excuse me; 

You adore it ? 
You amuse me 

I abhor it. 





C&e %tt in tht Pttncl)* 

'"PHE wail of the 'cello is soft, sweet, and 
low; 

There are strains of romance in the thrum- 
ming banjo. 

The violin's note — feel it float in your ear ; 

And the harp makes one fancy that angels 
are near. 



The voice of a young girl can reach to 

the heart ; 
The song of the baritone — well, it is art. 
The flute and the lute in gavotte — the 

guitar 
In soft serenade — how entrancing they are ! 
But to all the mad millions 
Who dance at cotillons 
)There *s naught like the clink and the clank 
and the crunch 
Of the ice in the punch. 





C&e Cale af a iSrofeen |>eatt 

OHE was a 
^ Beautiful, 
Dutiful, 
Grand, 
And rollicking queen of Bohemia, 
With a cheek that was 
Rosier, 
Cosier, 

And 
As soft as a lily, and creamier. 

She was always com- 
pelling me, 
Selling me, 
I 
Was her slave, but she treated me shame- 
fully. 

She went on the 
Stage, was a 
Rage, as a — 
Why — 






"3 





As a page, and they spoke of her blame 
fully. 

And then in the 
Papers her 
Capers were 
Sf Writ. 



I love her no longer, — I swear it 
But I oft spend a 
Dollar and 
Holler and 
Sit 
Through her antics. Oh, how can I bear it ? 





ii 4 




©Sa&ete toft pan set it? 

>RAY, ladies, ye of wondrous clothes, 






P 

A That draw admiring " ahs ! " and " ohs ! ^ 

And " By Joves ! " as men chat, 
Permit me, — love the right bestows, — 
Where did you get that hat ? 

The very hat, sweet maids, I mean, 
So often now on Broadway seen, 

That is so very flat; 
Black as a rule, but sometimes green. 

Where did you get that hat ? 




M 



J . Tn shape an oyster-dish, — the crown, — 
)\? 7 A ribbon bristles up and down, 
V? Quite striking — yes, all that; 
^The sweetest, neatest thing in town ! 
Where did you get that hat ? 






1 



" VTO!" The word 

Fell upon my ears 
Like the knell of a funeral bell. 
I had fondly expected 
A whispered " yes " that 
Would steal into my soul 
Like the song of an angel 
From some distant Aidenn. 
I arose and brushed off 
The knees of my trousers. 
"Farewell," I said; "you have ruined my 

life." 
M Nonsense," she replied in the cold, cutting 

voice 
Of a woman who has been used 

bills 
And a coupe; 






"There have been thirty-seven before you^ 

and they 
Are all married and happy now. 
You see I know all about young men." 
v"I do not think a young, timid girl 
Should ' No ' so much," I answered. And 

going out 
(Carefully escorted by the butler, for there 

was 
A better overcoat than mine in the hall), 
I left her alone and unloved, — with no one 

to care for her 
Save a couple of dozen servants 
And a doting father and mother. 



"7 




AN EPILOGUE TO HAMLET, PERFORMED BY " 
AMATEURS. 

CoQCENE: Elsi?iore — a platform before the 
HfCp castle (on an improvised stage). Inky 

darkness. Shade of Hamlet [solus). 



Shade of Hamlet: Oh, did you see him, did r'^ 

you see the knave, *£ft/* 

The spindle-shanked, low-browed, and III,. 

cock-eyed JL 

Clerk to an attorney, play at Hamlet, 



Dream-souled Hamlet, wearing an eye- 





118 




{Enter Shade of Laertes.) 

Shade of Laertes : What 's the matter with 

Hamlet ? $i 

S. of H. : He 's not all right. 

No, by the fame of Shakespeare, he 's ^ 
all wrong. 

A certain convocation of talented ama- 
teurs 

Are e'en at him. 

Your amateur is your only emperor for 
talent ; 

There 's not a genius in the universe \ 

Who will essay as much. 




119 





S. of L. ; Or, who will imitate nature so 
abominably. 
Your head is level, Ham., and I — even I, 
Laertes, suffered at the hands of one 
v^ Whose fiery hair, parted in the middle 
Like a cranberry pie, caused me to 

believe 
That some of nature's journeymen had 

made a man, 
And not made him well, he imitated 

nature 
So abominably. 
S. of H. : Ha ! the fair Ophelia ! 





§>iS. of O.: Yes, my lord, thine own Ophelia, 
Come back to earth with heaviness 

grief 
Thy madness ne'er begot, for I have 

seen 
The efforts of a lisping, smirking maid, 
As graceful as a bean-pole, and as lean. 
Attempt to paint the sorrow of my 

heart. 
Oh, I would get me to a nunnery. 
S of H.: Let me Ophelyour pulse. 

y\> Mad — quite mad; and all because 

A creature whom these mortals call a 
x. Miss, 

Quite properly, as her efforts are amiss, 
Would fain portray thee. Soft you, 
now! 




121 




O fair Ophelia. Nymph in thine orisons 
Be all her sins remembered. 
/■J Why let the stricken deer go weep, 
The untrained amateur play? 
All those that watch must surely weep. 
So wise men stay away. 






# 




(Flickering blue lights and curtain.) 



% 




1 




T^WO lovely maidens (woe is me ! ) 

Play tennis with my heart ; 
And each is wondrous fair to see, 
And each is wondrous smart. 



In learning, money, beauty, birth, 
None can surpass them — none. 

But each receives my " court " with mirth, 
And tells the other one. 



My " court " ! The term is fitly used ■ 

A tennis court, you see. 
And I know well I am abused, 

By the " racket " they give me. 

Maud strikes my heart a brutal blow, 
And Mabel cries out, "Fault!" 

And back and forth I undergo 
A feminine assault. 





123 





Maud asks my age. Alas ! I hear 
Sweet Mabel say, "The goose 

Is very nearly forty, dear." 

Maud answers, " Oh, ' the deuce ' ! " 



v^ And so my poor heart with their wit 
Is volleyed oft and oft, 
Till Mabel cries, while holding it, 
"This heart is far too soft." 

And firing it into the net, 
She says, with girlish vim, 

" Although he is n't in our * set,' 
We 're making ' game ' of him." 

And making game they are, I swear 

By all the saints above, 
With all the terms of tennis there 

Save but the sweetest, "love." 




124 




A 



A LAST word in the vestibule, 
A touch of taper fingers, 
A scent of roses, sweet and cool, 
When she has gone still lingers. 

He pauses at the carriage door 

To sigh a bit and ponder. 
He thinks the matter o'er and o'er, 

And all his senses wander. 

With mantle thrown aside in haste, 

Her heart a bit uncertain, 
And neither time nor love to waste, 
S^ She watches through the curtain. 

And she has played him well, he knows, 




■Z 

T 



Nor has he dared to stop her. 
She wonders when he will propose ; 
He wonders how he '11 drop her. 










>fe- 




there. 
I Ve money and beauty and college-bred 

brains ; 
Though my 'scutcheon 's not spotless, who '11 

mind a few stains ? 
To caper I wish in the chorus of style, 
And wed an aristocrat after a while. 

So please tell me truly, and please tell 

me fair, 
Just how many miles it 's from Madison 

Square. 




126 




^ 




It 's here, it 's there, 
Is Vanity Fair. 
It's not like a labyrinth, not like a lair. 
It 's North and it 's South, and it 's East 

and it 's West ; 
You can see it, oh, anywhere, quite at its 

best. 
Dame Fashion is queen, Ready Money is 

king, 
You can join it, provided you don't know 
P^ a thing. 



1 




^^^^^r^ 




jFor t&e long; ©opaje* 




"TT7ERE I a captain bold," I said, 
And gently clasped her hand, 
" Wouldst sail with me, by fancy led, 
To every foreign strand? 



"Wouldst help me furl my silver sail, 

And be my trusty crew? 
Wouldst stand by in the midnight gale, 

My pilot tried and true?" 



"Well, no," she answered, blushing red, 

" Such heavy work I hate. 
But," — listen what the maiden said 

"I would be your first mate." 



id '~ M 




128 



V &tu3 is tfje eno 
£f)e printing toas 
ootubg Sorjn (ESIilson 
& Son, Cambridge 

for 

&ton* & Stmfjall 

JFebruarg 



E 



